For Want
by Dot Warner
Summary: A "girl from Vegita's past comes back to haunt him" story. Because the idea won't leave me alone until I write it down. A retelling of an older story. Contains swearing and violence. Probably never going to be working on this any more, sorry.
1. Prologue: Marks of Royalty

For Want   
a rewrite of Nakaruru by Dot

- Prelude: Marks of Royalty -

"For want of a nail  
the shoe was lost.

For want of a shoe  
the horse was lost.

For want of a horse  
the rider was lost.

For want of a rider  
the battle was lost.

For want of a battle  
the kingdom was lost.

And all for the want of a single nail."

- >

-- Two Hundred And Fifty (Earth) Years Ago --

King Vegita rubbed the bridge of his nose and looked at the report before him again. It was just as he feared: the apparent state of impasse in the war against the Suponjin was an illusion. They, and not he, had deeper pockets, and it would only be a matter of time before his reserves ran dry. If he could not make a decisive move soon, he would have no positiong to negotiate from at all.

Worse, his enemies were inciting the hard-liners to see any offer of peace as a sign of weakness. He was already in a precarious position due to his obvious lack of an heir. Even though the Princess was as competitive, fierce, and skilled as other high-classed children her age--and perhaps even more so--it would be completely unacceptable for a female to assume the throne of the Saiyajins. And with her official Naming coming up in six months, the King could no longer put off any potential suitors without attracting more resentment. It would only be a matter of time before the Saiyajin empire was torn apart by both external and internal strife.

Well, the Suponjin could be dealt with easily enough. Already he had sent a secret envoy to work out a truce, and if it went through it would give him more room to maneuver. His daughter, however, was slightly more problematic. Among his close kin there were a few potential candidates, but their ties to the rival Houses were a bit too chummy for his comfort. What he really needed was someone from a place so obscure that no one bothered to make alliances. Preferably an orphan, so that no in-laws could meddle with his affairs. And of course, the chosen Prince would have to look the part, so that no one would ask too many questions.

Right. Piece of cake.

- >

The capitol of the Great Saiyajin Empire, like the Empire itself, was a study in paradox. Nowhere did lavish extravagance exist side by side with somber austerity so strikingly than here, where the slums of the poorest dredges of society wandered streets that were a mere pebble toss from the King's palace. Naturally, the King considered his "neighbors" an eyesore, but most of the time he was too busy worrying about other things to do much about them. Besides, most of the residents left on their on volition quickly enough. For every Saiyajin born here, three others either died, sold themselves into slavery, or joined the King's army to fight in the glorious war against the hated Suponjin.

And then, for one day only, a sudden and rather inexplicable phenomenon emptied the streets of nearly every young male around the age of six. Some went quietly; some did not. Some had to be dragged, while others were chased down. Some fought back, with variable success. But even the entire city's worth of children could not stand up to the might of professionally trained solders, much less a handful of orphans whom nobody cared about. The disappearances, as far as anyone was concerned, meant fewer mouths to feed.

As for the children, they were herded into the barracks, given numbered tags to wear, and divided into groups of about thirty. They were then marched into the King's presence and told that only the strong would leave the arena alive. Already accustomed to fighting for their survival on a daily basis, they did not need any other encouragement to begin.

- >

With one glance at the filthy bunch and Vegita had already categorized the large majority to be unsuitable. There were the weak ones, both those whose scrawny bodies would soon be crushed beneath the chaos that he was about to set in motion and those whose feeble minds were already overwhelmed by their sudden transplant. And then there were the wild ones, whose ferocity would help them through the fight, but whose utter lack of focus and discipline made them unsuitable.

All too soon, the chaos had ended, and a handful of brats covered in their own blood and the blood of their fellow scum emerged from the pile of bodies. An aide took notes on the survivors, speculating on what rank they could achieve if they were placed into the military, occasionally showing it to Vegita for his approval.

The arena was cleared and the guards mercilessly tossed in the next bundle of chaff.

Vegita sighed and downed the rest of his drink. It was, as he more or less suspected, a complete waste of his time. But if he wanted things done without the wrong people asking too many questions, this was the only recourse.

Vegita scowled. He should have been able to declare anyone his legal heir, and no one could so much as make a single peep. And yet, here he was, as one group of riffraff after another paraded in front of him.

Another slave refilled his cup, just as a new bunch filed in. Vegita played with his wineglass idly. Maybe this time, he would get a show worth his attention.

His eyes settled on a particularly effective fighter, a scruffy, vicious little brat wearing the number Eighty-One. He found himself sitting a little straighter as he watched Eighty-One fend off another group who had temporarily put aside their differences to prey upon those weaker. Eighty-One, instead of curling up and resigning to his fate, stayed on his toes and used his small size to his advantage, darting between his attackers and causing them to hit each other instead. And when Eighty-One struck out, he always aimed to cripple his opponent and let the mob take over. He wasted very little energy, choosing his battles carefully so that he would rarely be caught in a compromising position.

Vegita gestured to his aide, and a few moments later the Captain of the Seventh Regiment was kneeling before him. "You called me, Your Majesty?"

"His Majesty wishes to recompense you on any losses you may have incurred on your mission," the aide intoned, speaking for Vegita as the Captain was otherwise too far beneath the King's notice. "Despite your assurances that such a task was a simple matter and you require no reward for doing your duty, His Majesty is concerned for the welfare of your men." He waited for the Captain to bow, acknowledging the great honor the King was bestowing onto him. "His Majesty gives you permission to speak frankly, Captain. Did you encounter any difficulty?"

The Captain replied, his face to the floor, as the aide hovered over him and took notes. The aide then turned slightly towards the King. "The Captain is ashamed to report, Your Majesty, that number Eighty-One nearly slipped from his grasp. A number of men were taken by surprise by his agility and would have been seriously injured had they not worn their armor. However, they finally managed to wrestle him down and bring him in."

Vegita nodded slightly, dismissing the Captain. He allowed a small smile creep onto his face. Maybe this was not such a waste of time after all.

By the time he turned his attention back to number Eighty-One, all other motion had ceased completely. The boy stood, staring at the scene before him, as if he were just waking from a long nightmare.

"Insolent boy! You are in the presence of the King!" A soldier shouted. Two of them moved forward to push Eighty-One into a kneeling position. He thrashed, snarling, and put up enough resistance to require a third to wrestle him to the ground.

The King's aide stepped forward, tapping his heavy staff on the ground so that all eyes were on the throne. "The King has chosen his Heir. Long live the King!"

Immediately the boy was free to stand again as all present kneeled to show their allegiance. "Long live the King!"

- >

"You don't seem angry."

"Why should I be?" Nakaruru shrugged, and then winced as the hairbrush caught in a particularly nasty tangle. "Why should I care that because I'm a girl, I have to be engaged to some stupid Prince that I've never even met before?"

A light sigh. "You are mad at him..."

"What, you expect me to be happy about this, then? Ow!" Nakaruru pulled away, rubbing her sore scalp. "Forget it! Go away! I'll brush my own hair!"

"Very well, then."

Nakaruru grabbed the brush, and began yanking it through her unruly mane, hating every strand of it. She had barely started when a loud crash sounded in the distance, followed by voices shouting urgently.

"Please stop, Your Highness!"

Her own problems temporarily forgotten, Nakaruru walked out into the hallway and looked towards the noise. She felt her fists clench as she saw the Crown Prince careening towards her like a wild animal.

"What's all the ruckus?" This brought the chase to a sudden, screeching halt. She turned to face the Prince's servants--formerly her servants--and crossed her arms, scowling. "What's the big idea, running around shouting like the palace is about to burn down?"

A resounding chorus of thuds echoed as they kneeled as protocol demanded. The Princes' Intended, despite being female, still ranked higher than all of them combined. "The fault is ours, Lady. We did not mean to disturb you."

Nakaruru scowled deeper. "What did you mean to do, then? Wake the dead?"

The one in the front bowed until his forehead touched the ground. "I beseech you to be merciful, Lady!"

"Whatever." Nakaruru waved carelessly. "Get out of my sight, before I decide to change my mind."

"But, His Highness--"

"His Highness may do whatever he wishes, does he not?" Nakaruru glared at the upstart who dared to question her. She punched at the wall just hard enough to drive the point home and was pleased to see several jump. "Now, scram." She took a single step forward. "Don't make me say it again."

- >

-- Present Day --

King Brillo found himself enjoying the book more and more as he kept reading. This account of the Hundred-Year War, although not particularly accurate, portrayed the Supojinjin in a refreshingly sympathetic light, and pulled no punches when it came to exposing the intruigue and corruption any powerful institution would have.

'Suggesting that the King at the time was some pauper off the streets...even a Saiyajin wouldn't be able to miss the subtexts drawing parallels to the current Royal House. It's only a matter of time before this book is banned entirely.' He turned the page and contemplated the picture of the young Princess there before proceeding on to the text itself. 'Such a pity. If the Saiyajin were more given to reason, they wouldn't be in such dire straits now.'

He frowned as he noticed the console light flashing, indicating an incoming message. He frowned even deeper as the liquid crystal screen showed that it was General Lufa who had the audacity to interrupt his precious personal time. "I thought I made it clear that I was not to be disturbed until we arrived within firing range of Vegitasei."

"Forgive me, my Lord, but there might not be a Vegitasei if I delay this report any longer."

Brillo sat up, tucking a page of the book into itself as a placeholder. "Well, then, out with it. What's wrong?"

"Freeza's ship is now in Vegitasei orbit, and a battle has erupted in Vegita's upper air space. We're too far away at this point to determine any details, but--"

Brillo smiled. It was not a nice smile. "Karma, my dear general. It will be slightly disappointing that we won't be able to destroy the Saiyajins ourselves, but I knew that they would pay for their treachery one way or another." He set the book down; as fascinating as it was, something much more entertaining had come up. "Approach as close as you can without being noticed. I want to see this with my own eyes."

"Of course, Your Majesty. I'll relay your orders to Engineering."

- >

From the looks on his subordinates faces', Brillo could see that they, too, had mixed feelings about the destruction of Vegitasei. The Suponjin and the Saiyajin had waged war for two long and bloody generations, and had only managed to eke out an uneasy peace when the previous Vegita brought Freeza into the equation. And now, Freeza, being no fool, had eliminated nearly all of the Saiyajin before history could repeat itself.

Lufa spoke for them all. "Now what, my Lord?"

"Tonight, we meditate on what has happened. I'm sure that whas transpired here was a great shock to many of us and we'll all need some time to deal with our emotions. Tomorrow, I will meet with the Strategy Group to discuss further plans." Brillo nodded slightly. "Dismissed."

Lufa remained where he was, still staring at the new expanse of space dust flying past the screen. "If you don't mind, my Lord, I think I'll stay here a while."

Brillo nodded again, this time with understanding. "Take as long as you'd like, General."

- >

-- Two Hundred And Fifty (Earth) Years Ago --

"So." Nakaruru barely managed to supress a smirk as the Prince flinched at the sound of her voice. "We meet face to face at last, Little Prince."

The Prince did not reply, but instead rose to his feet, averting her gaze as he did so.

Nakaruru blocked his progress with her arm. "And where do you think you're going, Little Prince?"

He tried to sidestep, still not looking at her. "Home."

"Che, are you high? This is your home now."

"This is a prison."

Nakaruru clapped him on his shoulder. "Congratulations, you figured it out! You must be a genious."

He pulled her hand off roughly and began striding aggresively down the hall. "Either help me or go away."

Nakaruru skipped after him, dancing in front of him occasionally. "I am helping you, Little Prince. Nobody will dare to bother you as long as I'm around. Plus I know this place like the back of my hand." She jumped onto a window sill and balanced on one leg. "Including all the secret little corridors all the servants use to stay unseen."

This time he stopped and finally gave her his full attention. "Where."

"Nuh-uh. Not gonna be that easy, Little Prince." She jumped down and landed gracefully. "I might be engaged to you, but I still have no idea who you are."

He narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?"

"I want my old life back, but that's impossible, so I'll have to settle for plan b." Nakaruru walked up to the Prince and once again had to hide her pleasure as she realized she was taller than him. "I'm going to make you the best damn King this planet has ever seen, and then I'll marry you and become the greatest Queen."

- >

-- Present Day --

Brillo was starting to get annoyed. At this rate, he would never be able to finish that book. "What is wrong with you, Lufa? What is this big surprise you want to show me?"

Lufa was practically dancing down the hall now. "If I told you, my Lord, it would no longer be a surprise. And what a delightful surprise this is!"

Brillo shook his head, wondering to himself if his most trusted general had gone insane with grief. A few minutes later, Lufa finally stopped, indicating that they had reached their destination, and Brillo recognized it as one of the docking bays. In the corner was a large sphere. "You didn't..." he began as he began to pick up on why Lufa was so excited.

"We did." Lufa seemed to be on the verge of another joyful outburst, but contained himself as he approached the other crew members, who had gotten the door open and was extracting the still unconscious occupant. "A Saiyajin, my Lord! And a powerful one, if the readings are any indication!"

Brillo smiled again, and this smile was even less pleasant than the previous one. "What did I tell you about karma?"

Lufa mirrored the expression. "Should we call the Strategy group in right now?"

"I don't see why not."

* * *

Long and Tiresome Authoress' Notes:   
The section labled "Two Hundren and Fifty (Earth) Years Ago" is part of the new (but not necessarily improved) version of Marks of Royalty. More of the story will be quoted and alluded to as the chapters progress. 

Nakaruru (the present day version, not the one in the flashback) is the Saiyajin that the Suponjin take in at the end of the story, but this time, I'm leaving her real identity vague all the way through the story. (Frankly, Vegita already has enough Female Childhood Friends to populate a small village. :)

If you haven't figured out yet, "suponji" is Japanese for "sponge". I kid you not. (From one horrid pun to another, mwaha. :)


	2. Chapter 1: Situation Normal

For Want   
a rewrite of Nakaruru by Dot

-Part One: Situation Normal -

Goten, with his mother's lecture still ringing in his ears and his mother's elbow firmly planted at his side ready to jab him at any moment, put on his best mask to face the newest prospective date sitting across from him. "Hi, I'm Goten. Nice to meet you."

"My name is Paris," the girl chirped, giving him a smile that could launch a thousand toothaches, then bowing so low that her nose nearly went into her tea. "I am very pleased to make your acquaintance as well."

Goten resolutely avoided looking into Paris' eyes. "Well, uh, Miss Paris, do you have any hobbies?"

"Hobbies?" Paris repeated, blinking prettily.

The Elbow sharply reminded him to refrain from making any impolite gestures. "Um, yeah, hobbies. You know, stuff you like to do in your spare time."

"Oh!" Paris covered her mouth with her hand and made a sound that might have been a giggle. "I'm having so much fun with all the things I'm doing that I've never thought about spare time!"

"I see," he began slowly as his numb mind groped wildly for something to say. "As for me, I practice martial arts with my dad."

Paris' eyes glittered. "You mean like in the movies?"

"Sort of." Further elaboration being pointless, Goten decided to change the topic. "So you said you're busy with a lot of stuff. What do you do, anyway?"

"Let me see..." Paris began counting off her porcelin fingers. "There's school, of course," and here she let out a bull-in-a-china-shop titter, "then I get tutored in the classes where I'm not doing so well. Next is ballet, and following that etiquette. Before dinner is flower arranging, and afterwards..."

"Excuse me," Goten stood up, suddenly feeling ill. "I need to use the restroom."

"Goten," his mother glared at him warningly.

"That's all right, I won't keep him if he really has to go." Paris, the very model of an ideal young lady, interrupted with a wan smile.

Goten was never happier to leave a room.

- >

Goten turned on the faucet and half-heartedly placed his hands under the running tap. He looked out the open window at the irresistibly appealing landscape and let out a plaintive sigh.

"Goten!" Chi-Chi's impatient voice invaded the temporary reprieve. "What's taking you so long?"

Something in Goten snapped. Despite everything he had been taught and the common sense he usually possessed, all he wanted to do was run away screaming. Taking a deep breath and squeezing his eyes shut, Goten tried to dredge the last reserves of his courage.

"Goten!"

He fled out the open window, leaving the water on behind him.

- >

Goten kicked up a pile of leaves in his path and sighed, already regretting his rash decision to flee. 'Mom's probably having a fit right now.' He hoped, not without some malice, that she would eventually become so consumed with worry by the time he went home that she would not care about anything other than his well being. 'Then again, she would probably get more pissed off over my being out without her permission, not telling her where I was going, and breaking curfew on top of all that.' He sighed again. 'Oh, well. Too late to turn back now: she'll yell at me no matter what. Might as well go somewhere.'

Taking a quick survey of his surroundings, Goten was not too surprised to find the Capsule Corporation's main building looming in the horizon. He had been over at Trunks' house so often that he could walk--or probably even fly--there in his sleep. Trunks was the only friend who had the means to install a specialized phone line that automatically called the Son house every fifteen minutes to reassure Chi-Chi that Goten was indeed still there and not somewhere else "causing all sorts of mischief", as she put it in a tirade not long ago. It seemed that the last time Goten was somewhere without Chi-Chi's knowledge was when he first met Trunks at the Tenka-Ichi-Budokai nine years previous.

Remembering that Trunks would probably be out having the kind of social life Goten could only fantasize about, he glanced at his watch. 'A bit early for Trunks to be home, but it can't hurt to try, I guess.'

He briefly considered hastening to the trip by taking to the air, but decided against it. Of all the ways he could make his mother angry, he did not particularly feel like adding "flying in public" to the list. Besides, it was not too cover the distance if he had already traversed most of the way by foot.

He began heading for this destination, taking one step in front of the other.

- >

Trunks checked his watch and boggled at the time. 'Yup, it's definitely official,' he thought, downing the rest of his drink in one gulp. 'I've been stood up.'

There was no other plausible explaination. He was sure that they agreed on when and where they would meet; even if this was not the case, she had his phone number and he never went without his cellular clipped to his waist.

"She could have at least told me she wasn't coming," he muttered to himself, staring into his glass. With a sympathetic look, the bartender moved forward to offer a refill, but Trunks waved him off. The time--or, rather, lack thereof--that he had invested in this latest conquest did not warrant enough disappointment to get roaring drunk. Besides, the amount of alcohol required to give merely a satisfactory buzz was high enough to raise eyebrows in even the most liberal establishments. And despite his mother's own "youthful excesses", Trunks was fairly sure that she would not approve of the things he were up to should she ever care to find out.

Getting up, Trunks paid his bill and left a generous tip, all in cash: being the son of the richest woman in the world meant that credit cards were pointless, and he distrusted electronic methods of payment in general anyway. Taking out his phone, Trunks mentally went through his address book and quickly realized that at this time of day, pretty much all of his so-called friends would be otherwise occupied.

'Even Goten's meeting some girl today,' he remembered, the sense of pity that he usually felt for his friend somewhat marred by his own troubles with the opposite sex. Walking outside, Trunks attached his phone back to his belt and squinted into the cloudless sky. 'It's going to be another one of those days...'

- >

Vegita turned sharply to avoid the ki blast that Kakarrotto aimed at him. He barely succeeded, churning up a trail of dust as he skidded. The blast left a trail of its own, one of scorched grass, as it arched around and headed for Vegita again. This time, Vegita stood his ground and blocked the ki blast, only to regret this decision when he saw the sizable crater the impact had made.

"Whatever happened to holding back, Kakarrotto?" he shouted, shooting back up towards his sparring partner. "Don't you know how much that woman will carry on about ruining her lawn?"

"Sorry, Vegita, but I keep forgetting," Kakarrotto laughed, looking sheepish. He ducked under Vegita's half-hearted punch and returned it with a flurry of fists. "Besides, she fixes it up every time, doesn't she?"

Pushing against Kakarrotto's arms, Vegita flipped over him and tried to deliver a sharp kick as he came back down, striking nothing but air. "That's easy for you to say! You're not the one that has to sleep on the couch for a week!"

Kakarrotto reappeared high above him, obviously confused. "Is that bad?"

Vegita felt his eye twitch. "Forget it!" He roared, allowing the thrill of combat overtake him completely. "So you want to go all out, huh? I'll give you the fight of your life!"

"Now that's more like it!" Kakarrotto grinned, his aura blazing as well.

No more words were necessary as the battle continued.

- >

Goten slowed to a stop as he sensed the fight raging above him.

'Dad and Vegita are still at it?' he wondered incredulously. He never ceased to marvel at the intensity at which they competed with each other. Definitely no friendly rivalry--as was the case between him and Trunks--but more a matter of life and death, each pushing the other beyond their current limit. I guess it makes sense, though, since both of them grew up fighting practically all the time, Goten thought. But still, sometimes it seems so pointless.

He jumped as a stray beam of energy vaporized a large chunk of earth not too far from him. 'Yikes! I forgot how dangerous it is to be a spectator when Dad's sparring.'

Even after Bulma had the entire Capsule Corporation insulated with heaviest, strongest materials she could find, the waves of energy those two men generated could still produce obvious interference with every electronic device around. Once, a large-scale brownout resulted when they got too carried away with trying to find out which one of them had the bigger ki.

A second explosion nearly took his head off, and Goten rolled awkwardly to avoid it, landing practically on his back.

"Owowow," he groaned, trying to shake the stars from his vision.

And then he realized that the blinding light was not due to his fall, but from the shower of projectiles that Goku and Vegita were lobbing at each other.

'SHIT!' Acting almost purely on instinct, Goten leapt to his feet and immediately regretted it as waves of dizziness almost sent him to the ground again. Before he had much time to find his bearings, though, more spheres of fire rained down on him, showering him with shards of rock.

"Dammit!" The edges of Goten's skin began to tingle as anger welled up within him. Slowly, everything around him--the deafening explosions, the burning bits of plasma, the blinding flashes--were all lost as he was enveloped in a golden haze.

The ground buckled and gave way as he released his fury.

Goten staggered forward, having expended much more than he expected. He blinked as his father appeared next to him and steadied him by placing a large, firm hand on his shoulder.

"If you wanted to join us, why didn't you just say so?" Goku asked, smiling warmly.

Vegita, on the other hand, did not seem too pleased about the interruption. "The invitation stands only as long as you can keep up," he warned, opting to stay airborne.

Goten gulped and wished that he had taken up on his brother's suggestion to practice together more often.

- >

Keeping one hand on the wheel, Trunks plugged in his speaker-earpiece set into his vibrating cellular phone and pressed the "on" button. "Trunks here. What's happening?" He winced as his mother let loose one of her signature wails. "Let me guess, Dad's outside tearing up the lawn again?" He winced again as a second wail blasted through the small earpiece. "Okay, okay, I'm heading home already and I'll be there as soon as I can." He sighed, tuning out his mother's usual string of insults. "Yes, yes, I know." He raised an eyebrow as she unintentionally increased his vocabulary. "Uh, Mom..." He waited out another short rant. "Mom. You can yell at Dad in person all you want when I get him inside. Right now, I'm in the aircar, and I need to concentrate. I'm hanging up, okay?" He rolled his eyes as his mother's parental instincts suddenly kicked in. "Of course I'm being very careful. Aren't I always?" A giggle from the other side of the line indicated that most of the storm had past, and he chuckled as well. "Right, love you too. Bye." Hanging up, Trunks turned his full attention back to flying.

'Once again, I have to wipe Dad's ass for him,' he thought with a mixture of amusement and contempt. 'Guess that makes me the one that really wears the pants in this family.'

It wasn't too difficult finding his father; all he had to do was follow the trail of craters and burnt grass to where most people thought some sort of impressive sound-and-light show was going on. He sure is enjoying himself today, he observed, popping open the top and exiting, quickly encapsulating the car before it could veer away on its own.

"Oi, pops," he called, trying to sort out just exactly who was in the melee. His father was there, that much was for sure, but Vegita was such an exhibitionist that his ki generally overwhelmed anybody else he happened to be waylaying on. The "unfortunate" victim was more likely than not Goku, Vegita's target of choice, but there was something odd about the overall composition of auras that made it difficult for Trunks to determine just exactly who else was present. Of course, the fact that he was being totally ignored didn't help much either. Trunks cleared his throat and tried again in a much louder voice. "YO, OLD GEEZER!"

Almost faster than he could react, Vegita's gloved hand shot out towards him, but Trunks turned Super Saiyajin at the last possible moment and blocked the jab. "You are going to regret your words, boy," Vegita informed him coolly, going for his throat with the other hand.

Trunks sidestepped and batted the hand way. "You can beat up on me all you want later." He deflected a hard right hook and grimaced inwardly at how much arm stung from the impact. "Right now I suggest that you go inside and make nice with mom before she gets even more ticked off at you and decides to send you to the doghouse."

"She knows the gravity room is much too small," Vegita growled--not so much as a question as a complaint--while driving his fist towards Trunks' diaphragm. "Can't she wait to yell at me until after the tournament?"

Trunks twisted quickly and managed a glancing blow to Vegita's chin. "At the moment, she doesn't give a shit if it's the apocalypse. You still have a whole year to practice, but only a few minutes to placate her wrath." He jumped back, taking a neutral defensive position as he nursed his increasingly sore arm. "Doesn't take much to figure out which is the better choice, eh?"

Making a noise that sounded like the cross between a groan and a grunt, Vegita powered down. "We'll have to continue this another day, Kakarrotto," he called towards the rest of the glowing mass which had been pulsating throughout the entire conversation. "And next time, ditch the brat."

"But Goten kept up, didn't he?" Goku asked, dropping aura as well.

"Barely," an obviously tattered Goten gasped, letting his ki fizzle out quietly.

"Hmph." Vegita descended quickly, and in the blink of an eye had disappeared into the house.

Trunks blinked at the unexpected presence of his friend. "What are you doing here? I thought you had that arranged, uh..." he cocked his head, seeking the correct description for what he considered a torture session, and settled for a compromise. "Date...thing."

Goten scratched his head and tried to smile. "I, um, sort of skipped out on it."

"Wow." Trunks was not sure whether he should be impressed or worried. "I bet your mom went ballistic."

"Eheh...well..." Goten's forced cheerfulness became even more strained. "I wouldn't know. I haven't gone home yet."

"That's okay, I'll let Chi-Chi know you're here with Trunks," Goku, who as usual had absolutely no idea what was going on, patted Goten on the head. "I'm sure she'll understand. But she'll worry, so don't stay out too late!"

"Too late," Goten muttered under his breath just loud enough for Trunks to hear as Goku put two fingers to his forehead and disappeared.

- >

Bulma glared at Vegita as he come in through the porch door wishing that, just once, she could wipe the arrogant little smirk off his face. "You and Son-kun done blowing up the yard yet?"

Vegita crossed his arms. "I thought you said you wouldn't care even if I got killed." He strode past her towards the kitchen. "What's with the sudden interest today?"

Bulma willed herself from raising her voice, feeling her teeth grind in her jaw as she forced out her words methodically. "You could have at least waited until my clients finished the sixteenth hole. Do you have any idea how much your stupid macho antics have cost me?"

"Like you really need the money," Vegita shrugged dismissively as he checked the fridge for edibles.

Bulma stomped after him, practically hovering over his shoulder as she competed for his attention. "I do! With a company of this size, every little mistake could mean bankruptcy! And feeding the lot of you freaks doesn't help me maintain a healthy budget, either! Is it the end of the world if you and Son-kun don't try to kill each other for one day?"

Vegita emerged with a heaping bowl of potato salad and, after locating a large wooden spoon, helped himself to a generous mouthful. "The point of sparring day after day," he spoke slowly, as to a small child. "Is so that there wouldn't ever be an end of the world."

"Ha! Some defenders of the Earth you are! Every time something happens, you managed to create more collateral damage than the bad guys!"

In a matter of moments, the bowl was scraped empty and Vegita was rooting through the fridge again. "Whatever. You were the one that wanted me to be home for the kids more in the first place."

Bulma felt her carefully formed insults die in her throat as her anger made a hasty exit (stage left) from her system and a good dose of guilt waltzed in to replace it. "I'm only asking for you to be a little more considerate," she muttered weakly, resisting the urge to stare at her shoes.

Vegita patted her on the head. "There, there. If it's really that important to you, I'll find somewhere else to beat up on Kakarrotto on your golf days, okay?" Weaving past her arms to elude her hug, Vegita grabbed the nearest available leftover and headed for the door. "Besides," he continued, smirking in a way that made Bulma's blood begin to boil again, "if things really get bad, there's always prostitution."

The wooden bowl that Bulma hurled at Vegita bounced harmlessly off the wall, leaving a significant dent.

- >

Trunks pulled two sodas from the mini-fridge and tossed one to Goten. "So...what was so horrible about this girl that made you want to skip town?"

Goten popped the top and let the drink sit while he untangled the cords to Trunks' latest and greatest video game acquisition. "I don't know...she acted pretty much like every other girl in this sort of situation, I guess, but it all felt so...so wrong somehow." He stared at the television and idly twirled the controller in his hands. "And then I 't take it anymore."

Trunks clapped a hand on Goten's shoulder and sat down next to him. "I feel your pain, man."

Goten returned the gesture with a wilting glare. "Sure you do."

"Never mind." Trunks turned up the volume as the opening animation began to play, grateful that his house was large, with thick, soundproof walls. Rapidly pressing a few buttons, he advanced the game to the character selection screen. "Remember how you thought there was no way what I said was true? Check this out."

- >

Goku held his sobbing wife in his arms and wished he knew what to say to her. Somehow she had gotten into her head that Goten did not love her any more and it was all her fault. When he tried to tell her that she was being silly, she only cried even harder and became totally incoherent.

Goku sighed mentally. He loved Chi-Chi dearly, and tried to do everything to make her happy, but she always seemed to find something new to be upset about. He could not understand how she could be so sad all the time, nor could he see any point in all of her constant worrying, but he did not know how to help her.

Maybe she would cheer up if she had a nice, big dinner. Yes, that must be it. He understood now; he did not like being hungry, either. He would go and hunt for her, maybe even roast it on an open spit. And then, when they both had their fill, she could sit next to him while he told her stories or sang her songs--that always seemed to help quiet Gohan when he was a baby.

And Gohan! Surely Gohan would know what to do, being so much smarter and all. One phone call and Gohan would be on his way to lend a helping hand. And he could bring Videl and Pan, too; their granddaughter never failed to bring a smile to Chi-Chi's face. Then Chi-Chi would no longer have a reason to cry, and everything would be all right again.

Having convinced himself he had found the perfect solution to the problem, Goku relaxed and pulled Chi-Chi closer to him. 'And Vegita said being married was hard,' he thought, smiling to himself.

- >

Gohan, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, tried to come up with something helpful to say, but every time he looked into the shame-filled face of his brother, the words got stuck in his mouth. "Well," he began, not yet ready to give up. "You've got to go home sooner or later."

"You shouldn't have gotten involved," Goten mumbled, his tone somewhere halfway between apologetic and annoyed. "I didn't mean for things to get so out of hand."

Gohan kept his thoughts to himself, but his grip on the wheel tightened slightly.

"I still don't know why I did it," Goten continued as he stared into nowhere. "I'll bet mom's mad as hell."

"No, not really." Gohan sneaked another look at the boy-man sitting next to him, chewing his lip so that he would not be tempted to comment further.

"I'll probably still get grounded no matter what, right?" Goten wondered sullenly.

"I don't know," Gohan lied, knowing very well what sort of punishment Goten was in for.

- >

"I take it the apology didn't go too well," Trunks observed dryly as he watched his father stalk through the living room.

"As if it's my fault she can't take a joke," Vegita all but growled.

"It's always your fault, Dad," Trunks grinned. "That's the way it is with girls."

"Whatever," Vegita grunted. He yanked open the miniature refrigerator and frowned. "Don't you have anything other than gaseous sugar water in here?"

"Can't you wait until dinner?" Trunks countered.

"That..." Vegita paused momentarily, "mother of yours has locked herself in her laboratory again, and I doubt she's coming out."

Trunks blinked at the surprisingly mild term. Neither of his parents usually ran out of colorful insults for each other; to hear "that mother of yours" coming out of Vegita's mouth could almost be considered a phrase of endearment. Then again, a more likely explanation would be Vegita's insatiable Sayajin hunger getting to his head. "I guess that means I'll be eating out, too." He stood and stretched. "Say, I know a really good barbecue joint that won't mind the extra business. My treat."

Vegita seemed to consider the proposition for a moment. "Eh, why not?" he shrugged. "Cooked's better than raw anyway."

Trunks blinked again. Now his father was actually agreeing to spend an evening with him?

'It's for the food. Definitely the food.'

- >

"Faster! Faster!" Pan shrieked, clapping her hands together while jumping up and down like some small savage. "I'm hungry!" Videl, who was bringing out a heaping bowl of salad, merely smiled and whispered something to Gohan, who chuckled as well. Goten watched all of this in silence as his palms grew another layer of blisters.

Goku looked up from tending the fire and grinned at his son. "Ne, Goten, Pan-chan's right, you know. If you don't turn it faster, it'll burn."

"Don't bother," Chi-Chi announced quietly, the first thing she said all night, "it's done."

"Great!" Getting to his feet, Goku patted his rumbling stomach. "I can't wait to see how your sauce turned out! Come on, Goten, help your mother with the carving!"

Goten obeyed apprehensively, praying that his trembling hands would be able to hold the knife straight.

- >

Trunks let out a burp that echoed over the buildings of the Capsule Corporation. "Yeah! Nothing like a good meal to invigorate those gasses!"

Vegita gave his son an amused glance. "Oh, really?" A moment later, he produced his own, significantly louder belch. "Well, what do you know? My compliments to the chef."

Trunks's mouth twitched, as if he wasn't sure whether to laugh or groan. "Do you have to turn everything into a competition?"

"Of course," Vegita pounded his chest lightly. "That's the Saiyajin way."

"You and your Saiyajin way," Trunks chuckled, laying back onto the roof. "I'll bet your dad gave you plenty of lectures on that."

Vegita followed suit, using his arms as a pillow. "Actually, I didn't even see my father except in official ceremonies. It was my teachers that did most of the lecturing."

"Oh? This is the first time I've heard you talk about yourself." Trunks sat up slightly, propping himself with his elbow. "How come you've never said anything before?"

"You never asked. What's with the interest now? Don't tell me you actually want to 'reconnect with your heritage' all of a sudden."

Trunks sighed. "It's called making idle conversation, pops. Humor me here."

"You won't shut up until I do, will you?" Vegita wondered aloud, already half-guessing the answer.

Trunks smirked. "Nope."

For a moment, Vegita considered beating his son into submission. That would certainly solve the problem for the time being, but he had a feeling the threat of violence would not dissuade his son from nagging him. That, and the admittedly excellent meal had put him into good spirits. "That's what I get for marrying a chatterbox like your mother, I suppose," Vegita groused, pretending to be grumpy. "Very well. I shall 'humor you' as you request."

The smirk was now a full-fledged grin. "You have my humblest gratitude forever, Your Royal Majesty."

"Shut up and listen, brat." Vegita waited until Trunks had settled into a more comfortable position before continuing. "For as far back as I can remember, I was in training to one day succeed my father as King, but the only lessons I had any interest in was those of combat, and even that was terribly boring." Vegita allowed a small smile creep onto his face as he remembered. "I brought no end of grief to my caretakers with the trouble I caused. Eventually they decided that I was too much to handle and sent me to fight under Freeza."

"And the rest, as they say, is history," Trunks intoned deeply. "So you didn't like palace life much, huh?"

Vegita scoffed lightly. "Brilliant deductive work."

Trunks pouted. "Okay, okay, I get the idea. I'll shut up now."

"Good."

- >

As Goten stood facing his parents, he wondered why he didn't feel anything. There wasn't any of the usual panic, defiance, or even outrage that accompanied the usual Parental-Unit/Child Unit confrontation. Just a big lot of nothing, an empty void that would have put a black hole to shame. The world could end at that very moment--complete boiling seas, bloody moons, or people turning into orange Tang--and he would not have cared one way or the other. What little he recalled of being vaporized into happy oblivion by Buu (a fact he'd garnered by being an adept eavesdropper), he did not recall death as particularly unpleasant. Whatever afterlife he ended up spending an eternity in would certainly be preferable to yet another one of his mother's lectures.

Correction, his father's. Chi-Chi actually seemed to be at a loss of words today, so it would be up to Goku to implement some sort of responsible adult discipline. What actually resulted was a rambling, awkward cascade of words and phrases that obviously didn't come naturally to him. It didn't take long for Chi-Chi to realize that Goku did not grasp the seriousness of Goten's actions, and decided to take matters back into her own hands.

"I've already apologized to Paris for you, but even if she was gracious about it, you are to make amends to her in person. Her next available appointment time is at the end of the school year." Chi-Chi left it at that, but Goten understood the unspoken command.

"Yes'm." The word was muttered so softly that it came out as a single, garbled syllable.

"Go to your room. You are not to leave except to go to class."

"Yes'm."

"Goten."

"What is it, Mother?"

Mother and son gazed upon each other, volumes of words passing between them unspoken.

Goten was the first to break contact. "Good night, Mother."

- >

"Vegita, you still up there?"

Vegita smiled. The call of civilization, versus the call of the wild. "I'm not sleepy. You go ahead."

"Well, don't be long. I'd like to pretend I'm a married woman every once in a while."

Vegita laughed inwardly. That woman and her silly appearances...but then, he was living under her roof, eating her food...

Vegita grinned. "Don't worry, you know I can't stay away from your sexy body," he called just loudly enough for her to hear, as he shot off into the night. He was going to get an earful for that comment, eventually, but for now he was safe.

A moment later he arrived at the small bit of land he had more or less annexed for himself, quite possibly the last bit of Chikyuu otherwise completely untouched by the relentless march of progress. In a few more generations, this spot would be gone as well, replaced by artificial environments.

The same thing had happened on Vegitasei during his father's reign, so that the only trees Vegita ever remembered seeing were the ones growing from the Royal Garden, trophies of the King's conquests. As impressive the display may have been, it was nothing compared to the worlds Vegita saw through the windows of Freeza's ships. Even the most barren wasteland seemed to call to him, pulling at some ancient instinct or another.

Or maybe the Saiyajin still remained barbarians despite wearing the veneer of an empire. Old habits die hard, after all, and the Saiyajin clung to their traditions with a tenacity almost as ferocious as their temper. It didn't take long before one took a perverse sort of pride in being bloodthirsty, merciless, and unwashed.

(Well, maybe not unwashed. Vegita enjoyed a good, hot bath as much as the next person, and he really didn't care to put up with Bulma's overly creative descriptions of his body odor.)

Vegita kicked the water wistfully. Only a few minutes alone, and he was already thinking of the woman (possibly) waiting for him in the bickering mess he called "home". Not that he minded this too much, of course. Domestic life did have its advantages.

But every once in a while, he had to wonder if things could have turned out differently.

* * *

Long and Tiresome Authoress' Notes:   
Gah, and Nakaruru doesn't even get mentioned in this entire chapter. 

Not that this is a bad thing, mind you, but I'm wondering if I can do a sneaky sideways reference to her somewhere without it feeling forced.


	3. Chapter 2: Interruptions

For Want   
a rewrite of Nakaruru by Dot

-Part Two: Interrupted -

"Hey, Goten!" Trunks clapped a hand on Goten's shoulder. "Glad to see you're still in one piece."

Goten didn't bother to look up. "She didn't yell at me, or even raise her voice."

Trunks' eyes widened. "Woah, that is pretty scary."

Goten shrugged. "I guess, but right now I'm more relieved that she isn't harping about my supposedly dismal future every time she sees me."

"But you're still grounded indefinitely, right?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Goten shifted his weight slightly so that he could more adequately shoulder the burden he had placed on himself. "At least it's only two more years before I graduate."

Trunks wondered if Goten actually read from any of those books, or it was just all show to placate his mother. Goten certainly wasn't as much as a slacker as he was, but he couldn't imagine his friend burying his nose in, say, A Brief History of The Universe. He patted the thick, bulging pack. "Hang in there, buddy."

"Thanks, I think."

And then they parted ways, causing no end of speculation from those that saw them go.

- >

Trunks shook his head and sighed as he observed the spectacle going on overhead. 'Doesn't Dad ever learn?' He sighed again as he trudged towards the house, steeling himself for the tirade that his mother would inevitably dump on him. 'Here we go again.'

Bulma was, indeed, at the door waiting for him. As Trunks feared, she definitely seemed to be on the verge of exploding, or at the very least using him as a giant box of tissues. It was only when he drew closer and she did not acknowledge him by calling out his name, bursting into tears, or clutching at him with surprising strength that he realized she was not staring at him but rather something behind him.

Trunks turned to look as well and felt his blood run cold.

Saiyajin.

"Whatever you do, Mom, don't move," he muttered just loud enough for her to hear as he shifted into a defensive stance. He darted a glance towards his father's direction. 'So they've noticed. Good.'

Goku landed between Trunks and the stranger, while Vegita positioned himself on the other side.

"I'm not in any mood to deal with random Saiyajins popping out of the woodwork." And then, as if to emphasize his point, Vegita raised his ki so that he was only one flash of anger away from going Super. "So I suggest that you get out of my sight quickly."

Trunks had to suppress a laugh. Vegita not interested in fighting? Surely nobody would buy such a bluff.

The Saiyajin most likely thought the same thing as well, having failed to look properly impressed or frightened at Vegita's display. "Random? Hardly. My parents babysat you from since you were in diapers, but then I suppose I shouldn't have expected you to remember. You never did care very much about anyone other than yourself."

Trunks's jaw nearly unhinged. This Saiyajin was either incredibly brave, monumentally stupid, or just plain nuts. Any one of those insults, had they come out of his mouth, would have guarenteed a beating even if he had said them in private. Vegita's temper may have mellowed out over the years, but his ego definitely had not.

And yet, strangely enough, Vegita made no move, although Trunks was sure his father's eyebrow twitched slightly. "So what makes you think I'd want to recall the insignificant presence you had in my life, if any?"

The Saiyajin's head shook. "You haven't grown up at all. How utterly disappointing."

Trunks tensed as the Saiyajin walked forward. Why wasn't Vegita or Goku doing anything?

"You seem awfully calm about all of this," the Saiyajin remarked, stopping next to Goku. "What if I suddenly decided to blow this place to smithereens?"

"I think if you really wanted to, you would have already." Goku smiled at the Saiyajin. "Now, then, why don't you introduce yourself, so we can be friends?"

This time, Trunks chortled. Leave it up to Goku to defuse a potentially violent situation in such a silly manner.

Vegita, on the other hand, was definitely not amused. "Your head seems to be especially empty today, Kakarrotto. Can't you tell I'm trying to get rid of an unwanted pest?"

For the first time during the entire conversation, the Saiyajin turned to look at Vegita. "Come now, Veggie, don't tell me that's the best you can do."

This time, Vegita charged, but his fist only swung through empty air.

Goku concentrated and frowned. "She's gone. I can't find her any where."

"I can see that for myself," Vegita ground out between clenched teeth.

Bulma let out the breath she had been holding and fanned herself. "I must be getting old," she remarked wistfully. "I can't stand this kind of excitement any more."

Vegita allowed himself a small smirk. "Says the woman who repeatedly exposed herself to danger for curiosity's sake. But don't worry. Even Trunks could take on that Saiyajin, if things came to that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Trunks demanded, feeling his face flush. "I exercise."

The next thing Trunks remembered happening was Vegita moving almost too quickly to see. After that, Trunks found himself sailing through the air, his cheek throbbing. It was about then that his instincts finally kicked in and he managed to roll as he hit the ground a good four or five feet from where he had been standing.

Vegita unclenched his fist and dusted off his hands. "Those pathetic routines you dare call 'workouts' don't cut it against an opponent who's trying to kill you."

Bulma sighed and put a hand to her forehead, as if she could block out the rest of the world, or at least her migraine-inducing husband, that way. "Vegita..."

Even the usually oblivious Goku seemed to be dimly aware of some transgression on Vegita's part. "That wasn't very nice."

Vegita shrugged. "It proved my point, didn't it?"

- >

Goten plugged his headphones into Trunks' Walkman--on indefinite loan until his mother broke down and got him one of his own, or hell froze over, whichever happened first--and began scanning the radio stations until he found something to his liking. Truthfully, though, the song was awful: the man sung as close to monotone as the simple melody allowed, probably because he couldn't carry a tune to save his life, and the guitar backup consisted of a few basic cords strummed repeatedly, like some summer camp counselor whose entire musical training was "Tabulature for Dummies".

What had caught Goten's attention were the lyrics.

o/ The roof, the roof,   
the roof is on fire.   
The roof, the roof,   
the roof is on fire.   
We don't need no water let the motherfucker burn... o/

"Burn, motherfucker," Goten sang softly along with the music, letting it wash over him. "Burn."

- >

"You look bored. Care for some company?"

Goku turned slowly, not stopping his kata. The Saiyajin that had shown up at Bulma's house now sat behind him perching on a stout branch, her tail swishing slowly. (At least, Goku thought the Saiyajin was a girl. He could never tell very well, and he doubted she would let him use his sure-fire method for determining things like that.)

She jumped down, landing in front of him. "Well?"

Her stance was relaxed, almost playful, and Goku could find no trace of animosity within her. And he was hoping that someone would spar with him.

He smiled at her. "Okay, sure." He held out his hand. "My name is Son Goku. What's yours?"

She studied his hand with a slightly puzzled look for a moment before imitating his gesture. "That's a secret for now. If I live long enough, I might tell you."

- >

"We need to talk."

Vegita froze and groaned inwardly. He was hoping to avoid those four deadly words, but far be it that Bulma should ever forget to pester him about something, especially this. Even after all these years, he remembered the horror stories Yamcha told him. Sure, he was quite drunk at the time and the raw emotions of being dumped made him a bit prone to exaggeration, but obviously there was truth in the tale.

He stayed neared the window, not looking back, wondering how mad she would be if he just leapt out the window then and there. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Oh, yes there is." The tone in Bulma's voice seemed to suggest that she had made it so, just by ordering it.

Vegita bit his lip to keep himself from smirking. She would have made an excellent Queen. He coughed to cover the chuckle that threatened to escape. "Like what?"

"Like that Saiyajin."

'And now begins the Inquisition,' Vegita thought, steeling himself. "What about her?"

"Who is she? Why does she claim to know you?"

Something in Bulma's voice suggested that her anger was not about a potential rival, but her third, unspoken question: /And why didn't you ever tell me about her?/

Women were strange like that sometimes.

- >

Trunks wiped the condensation from his face and once again checked his reflection. The ugly red welt was finally starting to fade, and to his relief, no uglier purple bruise was rising to take its place. He would have rather skipped school than walk around the halls sporting the results of Vegita's latest "object lesson" and having to endure the whispers and stares he would get.

'But I guess I am kinda out of shape,' he thought, sighing. 'Especially compared to how Dad carries on.'

Not that he'd ever care to live up to Vegita's expectations, of course. But neither did he wish to be groomed into the future President of Capsule Corporation, which was what Bulma seemed bent on accomplishing. He much preferred to find his own direction, which according to the "wisdom" of his elders would consist of a lot of frustrated and fruitless wandering only to discover that the answer was right under his nose all along.

Trunks put the icepack onto his cheek again and closed his eyes, trying to visualize himself according to his parents' desires.

Prince of the Saiyajins?

CEO?

Some odd amalgamation of both? (He had to laugh at that one. SaiyaCo? The cold was definitely getting to his head.)

Or was he meant to be something else entirely?

- >

Goku's face was starting to hurt from all the grinning, but he couldn't help himself.

"Glad to see you're having so much fun," the Saiyajin called as she eluded a fireball and returned with a volley of her own shots.

Goku deflected first few, flipped over some more, and caught the last between his hands. "Uh huh! This is just like a game!"

She landed on the ground, allowing her ki to disperse. "Then let's play a different one, with everybody."

Goku did likewise. "Everybody?"

"Anybody that's a strong fighter." She smiled. "The more the merrier."

"No problem! I'll bring Vegita, and Gohan, and Trunks, and Goten too!" Goku put two fingers to his forehead and began to concentrate. "Be right back!"

- >

Gohan exchanged worried glances with his brother. "What's going on?"

"I dunno, Dad just showed up, grabbed my hand, and here I was." Goten sighed. "Mom's gonna kill me if she doesn't find me in my room."

"This is the chick that showed up at our place earlier today," Trunks whispered, indicating the Saiyajin who stood on a moderately-sized rock. "Wonder what she wants with us."

"I suggest you explain yourself quickly," Vegita said to the Saiyajin, crossing his arms.

"Yes, I doubt your puny attention span could keep you awake for the whole history lesson," the Saiyajin replied, smirking. "So I'll give you the abridged version."

Vegita did not react in any detectable manner, but Gohan felt his own body begin to tense nonetheless. There was something very unsettling about the otherwise relaxed way the Saiyajin carried herself.

The Saiyajin sat down and crossed her legs. "Three generations ago, the Saiyajin were embroiled in conflict with their former raiding partners, the Suponjin. The Saiyajin had the advantage of strength and numbers, but the Suponjin had the advantage of technology. For one hundred years, the tide of the war see-sawed back and forth, until that fellow's grandfather--" And here she indicated Vegita with the steel tip of her right boot, "--sold the Saiyajin into servitude under Freeza in exchange for his help. A small group of Suponjin managed to escape the ensuing massacre, and as you can imagine, they haven't been to happy about it ever since."

Vegita scowled slightly. "So they've tracked down the decendants of their enemies, and are swearing revenge?"

The Saiyajin shook her head. "Not just revenge. This is a couple centuries worth of deep, intense hatred we're talking about here. They won't be satisfied with anything less than total and complete annihilation."

"That means they'll kill you, too!" Goten exclaimed.

The Saiyajin shrugged. "Of course. That would only be fair."

"So why are you helping them?"

The Saiyajin smiled again. "I have my reasons." She returned to her feet. "Anyway, to reiterate in case you missed it, the Suponji would like all of you to die. Whether this is voluntary on your part or forcefully implemented is up to you. You have thirty days to think it over."

"I don't need thirty days," Vegita declared, going Super Saiyajin. "Here's my answer right now!"

"Vegita, don't!" Gohan heard Goten shouting as Vegita fired a huge blast of ki at the Saiyajin. "We can still talk this over!"

"There is nothing to discuss," the Saiyajin answered as she whipped out what looked like a flashlight. She pointed it at the beam of energy heading her way, and in the blink of an eye it had disappeared into the device.

Vegita growled something and was readying a second shot when Goku put a hand to his shoulder. "So if at the end of thirty days, we don't surrender, we have to fight, right?"

"If you would like to. You can also try running away, if you wish. In the end, it'll all be futile."

"We'll fight," Goku declared, all business now. "We won't give up, even if things look hopeless."

"Very well." The Saiyajin jumped off the rock and launched herself into the air. "I will relay your decision to the Suponjin."

Gohan watched her go. "So...now what?"

"We wait, of course," Vegita answered, lowering his ki back to normal levels and pulling Goku's hand away. He grinned wolfishly. "And then we play."

- >

"Don't be angry."

Chi-Chi bit her lip to hold back a bitter laugh. Angry? Angry didn't even begin to describe how she felt. "Why would I be angry?"

"Chi-Chi."

She had to look away as Goku called her name. He was being so serious, so mature, the husband that she thought she could only dream of. And yet she always dreaded it when he used that tone of voice.

"Chi-Chi."

And there it was again. She forced herself to face him, keeping her face impassive. "Yes, dear?"

"It'll only be a month. And Goten can still go to school if you want him to. And we'll try our best to make sure nobody dies." He grinned. "Besides, there's always the Dragon Balls."

No. He was not going to put her through this farce any more. "And you always do what you want anyway."

A puzzled look came across Goku's face. "But, Chi-Chi, I just want you do understand--"

"I don't, and I don't ever want to!" Chi-Chi tore herself away as Goku tried to embrace her. "How could you, Goku? It's bad enough to watch you flirt with death, but Gohan and Goten too!"

Goku became even more bewildered. "But being dead isn't bad."

Chi-Chi had to suppress a scream. "You still don't get it? They're you're children, too, Goku! Your! Children! You're supposed to protect them so that they can grow up and have a peaceful, normal life!"

"But they've already grown up, and things have been pretty quiet." Goku frowned slightly. "Or are you talking about something different?"

Chi-Chi felt herself deflating as Goku's question caught her completely off guard. "I--I don't know."

- >

After picking up her daughter from day care, Videl came home to a scene of absolute chaos. It looked like a tornado had passed through their tiny apartment and dumped the entire contents of their closet onto the floor. Meanwhile, Gohan buzzed about frantically, piling clothes into a suitcase that seemed on the verge of bursting. "What in the world are you doing?"

Gohan kept packing. "We're moving back in with my parents."

Videl's hands tightened around her daughter's small body. "What?"

Gohan gave an abbreviated account of what had happened earlier. "And that's all we know for now, so I'm preparing for the worst."

"So, saftey in numbers, huh?" Videl asked, trying to keep her voice at a reasonable level. "What happens if your mother and I kill each other before these sponge-people beam down and wipe us off the face of the Earth?"

Gohan sighed, finally stopping to address Videl face-to-face. "She's my mother, Videl. She's overprotective of me because she cares."

"And she doesn't think I can ever be as good as her. In her eyes, the only decent thing I've done is give birth to Pan, and sometimes she doesn't even give me credit for that. I'm not going back, and that's final."

Gohan looked at his wife, at the piles of clothes everywhere, then towards the ceiling, and back again. "What about the Briefs?"

- >

Trunks wasn't sure whether to laugh or to cry as he discovered the real reason his father took to leaving scorch marks in the Capsule Corporation's lawns: Bra had converted the gravity room to her own personal kingdom of dolls.

"Oh, hi, Trunch," Bra greeted without looking up from her Queenly duties.

"That's 'Trunks', squirt. To-ra-n-ku-su." Trunks frowned as Bra giggled at his exagerrated pronounciation. "Ha, ha, hilarious. Do you know where this is?"

"Course I do. This is daddy's special eggsers room. He let me borrow it."

"Yeah, right. Pops just didn't have the heart to throw you out." Trunks picked up one of Bra's pink-haired denizens and shook it threateningly. "But since I'm mean and nasty..."

Bra became a blinding mass of golden fury. "You put her down right now!"

Trunks was so surprised he nearly dropped the cloth-stuffed hostage, but quickly came to his senses and set it down carefully, patting it on the head. Bra was usually such a typical little girl that he forgot she was his sister and therefore inherited both his parents' genes and tempers. "Okay, okay. Geez. I was only kidding."

And just as suddenly, Bra was back to 'normal' again, tending to her loyal subjects. "Close the door when you leave, okay? You're letting all the air out."

- >

King Brilo looked up from his dinner. His most trusted general was eating slower than usual, and had been unusually reticent during the previous briefing. "Something bothering you, General Lufa? Is that Saiyajin giving you trouble again?"

Lufa shrugged. "She's as cooperative as a Saiyajin can be expected to get, Highness. But she keeps witholding more and more information as the deadline nears."

Brilo nodded, understanding why Lufa did not voice this concern in public. "I don't blame her; after all, she's about to outlive her usefulness."

Lufa resumed sawing at his steak. "And the longer she lives, the more dangerous she is to us."

"An unfortunate but necessary risk." Brilo took a sip of his drink. "If I were more certain that we could succeed without her, I wouldn't hesistate to put an end to this farce of a partnership. But right now, we don't have enough contingency plans to cover for all the varibles. She may be unreliable, but at least we know that, and maybe we can even use that against her somehow."

- >

"What deep mysteries of the universe are you pondering today, oh Guardian of the Earth?"

Dende chuckled softly despite the joke being a thousand times old. They would have plenty of time to be solemn later. "Well, Piccolo, I was wondering exactly how this platform connects with Karin's Tower. Obviously what we're standing on isn't just a disc at the end of a piller, or we wouldn't be able to see everything that occurs beneath us. But I've never been able to notice any indication that we're moving, either."

"Another excellent meditation tragically interrupted by the harsh realities of having to run a planet," Piccolo intoned with semi-mock pathos, causing Dende to giggle again. "So, what's the diagnosis on this latest disaster?"

"Actually, the 'invasion' has been pretty low key so far. The Suponjin only seem interested in ethnically cleaning their enemies with as little impact as possible."

Piccolo's antennae began to twitch, a sign that he was irritated. "How considerate of them. They were even nice enough to say when the mass-murdering would begin."

"Thirty days." Dende wondered if there was any significance in that number. "They do have what it takes to pull off at least a few casualties."

"Nothing the good old Cosmic Eraser can't fix," Piccolo muttered, imitating the voice of the cranky, old Kaioshin they had met during the whole Buu mess. "What's going to be a bit trickier is that Saiyajin. She's going to be a catalyst for quite a bit of change around here - and no amount of wishes can put together what'll be broken."

* * *

Introducing the villains much earlier this time, because I felt that the original was a bit too slow-moving, plus being direct is probably more in character with what Nakaruru would do. 


	4. Chapter 3: Mind Games

For Want  
a rewrite of Nakaruru by Dot

* * *

**Chapter 3: Mind Games**

* * *

"You don't seem surprised to see me here."

Vegita didn't turn around. "Of course I'm not surprised. Kakarrotto couldn't have been the one to suggest that we take our sparring elsewhere; he's not that considerate." He looked around at the lifeless terrain where he and Kakarrotto had once battled for the fate of the planet. "Although I'm just a bit disturbed that you know this much about me."

"I know a thing or two, yes." She strolled to his side, just behind his peripheral vision. "But one can only learn so much by watching from the outside. The rest--including how the little royal bratling became a family man--is a complete mystery."

It would have been pathetically easy to turn her in a smoldering heap of ashes, and she knew it. Which was exactly why Vegita was going to steadfastly pretend that she didn't bother him in the least. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

She made a move as if to approach him, but settled for rocking on the balls of her feet instead. "Come on, Vegita. There's nobody here. You don't have to pretend that you don't know me."

Vegita looked her up and down, taking in her long, black, obviously Saiyajin hair and furry brown tail that betrayed her by swishing back and forth. "All I can come up with whenever I try to think of you is one big, long blank."

She stiffened slightly, but recovered before he could make any comments about her lack of self-control. "Well, then, maybe this will refresh your memory." She leapt up to a pillar, one of the few that weren't vaporized decades ago in Vegita's furtive attempt to destroy Kakarrotto. And once again, Vegita hoped that the selection of this locale was a mere coincidence instead of just another part of this Saiyajin's inexplicable obsession with him. A light breeze swirled around her as she began to speak, and her decidedly ungirlish voice carried easily across the space between them.

"'Get up! You can do better than that'  
'I can't.' His body hurt. His hurts had hurts. The slightest bit of motion resulted in searing, blinding agony.  
'Stand up, or this is the day you die, Little Prince!' She began to gather a sphere of energy in her outstretched hand. 'You'll be buried in a forgotten grave and replaced with some other nameless brat.' Was it just his imagination, or did her voice break when she said that? 'No one will mourn you, do you hear? No one!'"

The dim vision of a boring lecture tugged at the back of Vegita's mind, but he did not indulge in any reminiscence. "So you know the nursery tale of how a pauper supposedly came to inherit the throne of Vegitasei because the King's only child was female."

This time, she bristled visibly. "It wasn't just a nursery tale, or the government wouldn't have been so eager to ban the 'Lady Kaede' version. I may have only been six at the time, but unlike some slackers I kept up with current events."

The resonance was stronger, but once again Vegita dismissed it. "That was all very enlightening, really, but I have better things do to than sit here and put up with your nonsense."

Just as he stood up, she was standing before him, a glowing sword pointed at his throat. "Well, then, you do remember this little device, don't you?" She peered down the length of it at him, her dark eyes smoldering. "I wonder how it feels to be stabbed with your own life force?"

Vegita grabbed her arm as she lunged forward and twisted it. She spun with it, letting go of the sword and using the momentum of her body to strike at him. Vegita blocked easily, and then roared with surprise as the sword took on a life of its own and swung at him, nicking the edge of his arm.

"Come on, Little Prince, don't tell me that's all you got," she taunted, still quoting the age-old words of some slave's fantasies. And yet, her body language did not read as particularly hostile. The sword, too, merely acted a distraction, cutting in when Vegita got too close to her. "Come on, there's only twenty-eight days of fun and games left."

Vegita blinked. That line had been in the story, too. Something about the former Princess being shipped off to another planet so she wouldn't be a bad influence on the Crown Prince. And then--and then what? He had only read the tale once, as part of the mind-blindingly painful critical analysis course his tutors wouldn't let him skimp on no matter how many times he tried to wriggle out of it. And this blasted Saiyajin dancing in front of him, treating him like a child, wasn't helping matters at all. "What the hell do you want?"

And just as suddenly as she started, she stopped, and the sword dropped harmlessly to the ground. "Vegita. It's me," she said softly in their native tongue. "Why won't you talk to me? Do you really hate me that much?"

'Now she tries the crying,' Vegita thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. 'Even Bulma does a better job at this.'

But no tears came. She just stood there, waiting. "Vegita."

What did she expect him to do? He certainly wasn't about to lie to her, especially not to make her happy. "I can't hate someone I don't remember."

"So you really don't remember. Good." She picked up the sword from the ground. "At least it will make ending your miserable lives easier."

Vegita checked his arm; the blood was already coagulating, and he was otherwise uninjured. "At this rate, you and your spongy cohorts will be the ones to die instead."

She shrugged. "I guess we'll find out twenty-eight days later."

And then she was gone, leaving Vegita alone with his thoughts.

- 

Bra punched in the special keycode using the keypad that Mama had installed at kiddie height when her brother Trunks--but she liked to call him 'Trunch', to tease him--was old enough to use the room by himself. "Okay. Now the fun part begins."

Pan tested out her arms and legs experimentally. "Cool! This is like being at the moon walk, except backwards!"

"It gets even better. Watch." Bra sat down in her circle of dolls and began to concentrate. Slowly, one of them began to rise off the ground.

"Wow," Pan watched in awe as the doll levitated and made an elegant, albeit upside-down, circuit around the room. "How'd you do that?"

"It's easy. See, the line where you begin and everything else ends is really fuzzy, so all you have to do is reach just a little bit and change the shape of the line--" Bra demonstrated by crossing her energies with Pan's.

"Oooooooh," Pan breathed. "Papa can do it, too, but he hasn't teached me yet. He says I should wait until I'm more grown up, first."

Bra, having had more practice, effortlessly levitated another doll. "Grownups are stupid. They whisper and pretend like we don't know anything. Well, we'll show them that we can fight, too."

Pan nodded. "How many more days?"

"Twenty-eight." Bra helped as Pan bobbled a doll, nearly dropping it to the ground. "Nono, you're forcing it too hard."

"Oh, okay." This time, Pan managed to correct the tilt herself, and she broke into a grin at this accomplishment. "This is easy! We're going to kick their butts!"

Bra let another doll rise into the air, joining the others in an intricate dance. "No. No butt-kicking. We just stop them from hurting our Papas and Uncles."

- 

Goten stretched out on the hill, letting his sore muscles get a break. "You've come up with some pretty hair brained ideas, Trunks, but this is your worst yet."

"It got you out of the house, didn't it?" Trunks rotated his arm and winced regretfully. "And besides, it's always good to have a Plan B in case Plan A doesn't work."

"What's Plan A? Ow!" Goten punched Trunks back in the same spot where he had been hit, and groaned as he overextended.

"Come on, Goten! We've only got twenty-eight days left!" Trunks pulled his hovercar capsule out of his pocket and threw it to the ground. "Let's stop by Karin's for a quick break and give it another shot."

Goten groaned again. "You're not going to stop until we get it right, are you?"

"What do you think? Not only do all the motions have to be perfect, we have to make sure we don't repeat the Buu debacle." Trunks extended a hand to Goten. "Can you still move?"

Goten grabbed Trunks by the arm, winced again as another wave of pain shot through his body, and wrenched himself to his feet. "Barely."

Trunks nodded sympathetically. "All right, then only a little light sparring after Karin's, and then we visit the good old boob tube."

Goten grinned. "Now you're talking."

- 

Gohan wrapped his arms around his wife lightly and shared a quick but intimate kiss as she entered his office pulling a large cooler behind her. "Mmm. Lunch and dessert. You spoil me."

Videl made a mock scandalized expression. "Here? Now? What would the neighbors think?"

With Videl still hugged against him, Gohan twirled around dramatically, causing her to shriek in delight, and closed the thick oak doors. "The room is soundproofed. No one will hear a thing."

And of course, by saying such a thing, Gohan inevitably invoked Murphy's Law.

The phone on Gohan's desk sprang to life with the voice of his administrative assistant. "Mr. Son? Your mother sent you lunch again."

Gohan sighed. "I'll be downstairs to sign for the packages right away."

"Actually, I've already signed for it and it's outside your office."

"Thanks." Gohan opened the door and grimaced at the number of boxes sitting in front of his office. "This is still too much, even for me."

Videl flopped down on the couch as Gohan brought them in. "She still sends you lunch?"

"She used to drop them off in person and wouldn't leave until I ate all of it." Gohan sighed again. "And she used to cook twice as much as this."

Videl took the last package and forced a smile. "Well, at least we don't have to worry about dinner tonight."

Gohan unpacked one of his mother's labors of love and wondered whether he should drop the other bombshell. Maybe later. After all, the threat didn't quite feel real enough yet, and although Videl tended to be a bit more progressive in certain matters, she was just as fiercely protective of Pan as Chi-Chi had been of him.

Videl stared into an open lunchbox, chopsticks poised thoughtfully above a morsel. "Do you think those Suponjin are serious? About--you know."

Gohan nearly choked an a spear of asparagus. Did she just read his mind? "I don't know, but it's best to assume the worst."

Videl nodded, still not eating. "Pan's starting to take an interest in martial arts. I told her I'd think about letting her take lessons."

Well, no point in avoiding the topic now. "I could teach her."

"That'd be nice," Videl answered absently.

Gohan pulled Videl into a hug. "It'll be all right, Videl. Things will turn out fine."

Videl squeezed back, holding on as if for dear life. "I hope so, too."

- 

Bra put a hand on Pan's shoulder. "Relax, Pan. She's not the enemy."

"She is too!" Pan snarled. "I heard Papa and Mama talk about her! She wants to kill all of us!"

The stranger's lips quirked upward in a manner that reminded Bra of her father. "Will you try to stop me then, little warrior?"

"No," Bra cut in before the fuming Pan could actually try to start a fight. "My name is Bra, and this is Pan."

"Ah," the stranger nodded. "I suppose I should say 'nice to meet you'."

"HEY!" With that furious shout from her brother, Bra felt herself being swept up into his arms.

Bra sighed. This was not going to end well. "Go away, Trunch."

Pan was similarly unhappy, attempting to squirm from Goten's grasp. "Put me down, Ten-ten!"

The children were, as usual, ignored as the 'adults' discussed 'grown-up' stuff. "What are you doing in my house?" Trunks demanded.

"Your mother," the stranger replied, pausing just long enough to watch Trunks squirm, "invited me over to help with her research. I suppose I should be a bit more worried given the fact that said research is most likely on how to kill me, but--" and here she shrugged.

Trunks did not look happy about his newest houseguest. "So why are you wandering around?"

"You're so cute when you do that 'Chief of Homeland Security' face, Little Prince." The stranger reached out to pinch Trunks' cheek, but he batted her hand away.

"Answer the question," Trunks all but hissed, hands clenching into fists and the barest hint of a golden glow lighting his sour features.

"Not that it's really any of your business, but I have the rest of the day off." She shook her head. "And you really need to relax. I'm no so stupid as to attack your precious baby sister in your own house a month before the rest of the happy fun genocide is supposed to start."

Pan's eyes went wide. "Ooh, I think she just dissed you!"

Bra slapped her forehead with her palm and grimaced. Leave it up to Pan to say the worst possible thing at the worst possible moment. Goten, meanwhile, went into a coughing fit as he laughed backwards into his throat, and the stranger herself seemed on the verge of guffawing as well.

Trunks was, needless to say, Not Amused. "I'm warning you--"

"Don't even try, Little Prince. There is absolutely nothing you can threaten me with." Bra shuddered a bit as the stranger's now completely cold eyes swept over her. "And if I really wanted to have my way with her--or any one of you--not even Vegita himself could stop me."

Trunks made the mistake of trying to grab the stranger in the arm.

She intercepted him easily, snatching his wrist out of the air and twisting it just far enough to cause pain. Trunks winced, but his hold on Bra did not falter.

"If it were not in my best interest to hold back, you would be short one limb right now," she informed him quite matter-of-factly. When Trunks' only response was to flare slightly, the stranger let go. "Good. You're finally starting to learn how to pick your battles wisely, instead of charging into everything like some reckless spoiled brat that's never really fought anything tougher than itself."

Time for Bra to the rescue, or something. "He helped saved the world twice." All right, so one of the times wasn't exactly Trunks, but his time-traveling alter ego, but the stranger didn't have to know that.

"Did he now?" The stranger examined Trunks up and down a few times, causing him to look rather uncomfortable. "Well, well, well. Appearances can be quite deceiving."

"You can put me down now, Trunch," Bra said, taking full control of the situation. "I was just going to show my new friend here all your embarrassing baby pictures."

"Like you know where they are," Trunks muttered, complying nonetheless. He knew that Bra always got her way, no matter what, and he was still undoubtedly smarting from the lesson in why it was a bad idea to mess with an unknown threat.

"She does too!" Pan chirped, giving Goten a hearty thump on the back of his head. "Now put me down, Ten-ten, before I clonk you another!"

"Ow! Okay! You don't have to hit so hard, geez!" Goten lets Pan drop unceremoniously while he puts on a melodramatic display of mock pain.

Bra rolled her eyes and took the stranger's hand into hers. "Come on. Let's get away from these boys."

The stranger smiled again, and this time she was genuine, even kind. "As you wish, my Lady."

- 

Trunks rubbed his shoulder ruefully as they walked to their part of the house, jokingly dubbed the 'Den of Solitude'. "Thanks for being ever so helpful when your best friend since childhood was in dire peril."

Goten shrugged. "Hey, I had my arms full with Pan. Blood is thicker than water and all that, you know. Besides, I'm not stupid." Like you, his annoyed expression seemed to imply.

"She was in my house," Trunks all but growled.

"Your mom's house," Goten corrected a bit too cheerfully, almost getting clobbered in the head a second time as a result. He headed to the miniature fridge and pulled out two sodas, tossing one to Trunks. "Geez, and I thought your dad was the overactive violent one."

"And that's the weird thing. Dad hasn't done jack shit. He's twitchy as hell, though." Trunks opened the bottle with his teeth while he leafed through his extensive game collection. He spat the cap into the recently empty bowl, smiling a bit at his mother's angry note declaring that she's not his maid, and then scowled again. "I can't believe Mom--" he shook his head. "No, actually, I can. She's always been the type to take charge and face trouble head on." Even if it might kill her, he almost said.

"Yeah. My Mom's taking all of this surprisingly well, too." Goten sighed. "I think she's totally lost it. Not only is she acting more normal than she's ever been in years, she--" and here he blushed furiously. "She's encouraging me to go out and 'expand my horizons'! What the hell is that supposed to mean!"

"I think it means, 'go out and get laid, son'." Trunks couldn't help but laugh as Goten turned even redder. "You should totally go for it, before she reverts to her usual paranoid self."

"No freaking way!" Goten exclaimed, looking like he was about to explode from embarrassment. "She'd kill me!"

"So? You already died once and you're gonna bit the big one permanently someday. Might as well get your cherry popped before that happens."

Goten sank further into the couch. "You don't have to make it sound so crude."

"And you don't have to sound like some uptight old church lady." Trunks gave him a look. "You do like girls, right?"

Goten colored again. "Of course I do! It just--feels wrong to look at a girl and want to--to--"

'Fuck her into next week?' Trunks thought, but he knew better than to state that out loud. The poor kid was so sheltered that the mere thought of holding hands with a girl that wasn't family could make him faint. "All right, all right. Back to what's 'really' important." He turned the speakers to full blast and basked in the resultant ocean of music.

Goten picked up his controller and grinned. "Yup. What's 'really' important."

- 

Bulma blinked as Vegita (Vegita?) set down a steaming mug of coffee in front of her. "What's the catch?" She asked, looking back and forth between the coffee and the husband she thought she had figured out.

"I didn't put anything in it, if that's what you're implying," he answered. "Other than coffee, obviously."

Bulma wasn't sure whether to feel touched or paranoid. "And why, pray tell, did it occur to you to give me coffee?"

"And why does there have to be a 'why'?" Vegita leaned over her, peering at the screen Bulma had been studying, and she felt her heart skip a beat when his arm brushed against hers. "Well, well, well. Did you wrangle a confession out of that girl, or did you figure all of this out by your genius self?"

It was beyond silly to be blushing like a teenager for this infuriating Saiyajin (worse because he surely noticed and would give her no end of teasing), but something about the lilt in his voice and the posture of his body put her in the mood for mischief. "A little bit of both, I guess. Talking to that girl was worse than squeezing blood from a rock."

"Wouldn't it be more productive to find out who's pulling her strings and using your charms on them instead?" Before Bulma could sock Vegita in the arm for that, he continued. "Of course, they probably won't care for a solution that doesn't involve exterminating us, but it might be worth a shot."

Pretty much every romantic inclination fled at that thought. (Whether this was for good or for ill remained to be seen.) Bulma sighed. "Why do these kinds of things always have to end like that?"

Vegita shrugged. "If you come up with any plausible alternatives, I'm all ears."

Bulma found herself staring even well after Vegita left the room, wondering whether he had been replaced by some sort of non-evil twin.

- 

"--and this is a picture of everybody on my birthday!" Bra handed the album to the stranger and got up. "I need to go potty, I'll be right back, okay?" She ran out of the room without waiting for an answer and quickly found Papa, who was heading her way.

"Hey there, Princess," Papa greeted, picking her up and swung her through the air before setting her on his broad shoulders.

"Shh!" Bra admonished. "You'll scare her away!"

"Oh, right." Papa dropped his voice to an exaggerated whisper. "Is this better?"

Bra giggled as quietly as she could. "You're so silly, Papa!"

"Yes, yes, quite." Papa began walking again, swaying like he had too much to drink. "My, you're getting big, Bra."

Bra grabbed two large fistfuls of Papa's thick, spikey hair and twisted them to the right. "No, no, the other way!"

Papa gently took Bra's hands into his. "As you wish, Princess."

- 

Pan easily picked up the heavy photo album and put it back on the shelf, then got the stranger another one. "This isn't fair, you know."

"What isn't fair?"

"You know a lot about us, but we don't know anything about you." Pan sat facing the stranger and crossed her arms. "And you won't tell us anything, not even your name."

"Why should I tell you anything? You'd think I was lying."

Pan thought about this long and hard. "I could pretend to believe you," she finally offered.

The Saiyajin blinked and stared at Pan in stunned silence for a good minute. "That'd be nice, wouldn't it, to pretend?" she mused out loud. Her hand rested on a picture of a group picture taken at one of the reunions held long before Pan had been born.

The clock on the wall began to chime, indicating that Pan's favorite show was on. "Um, I can't talk to you right now. Maybe another time, okay?"

The Saiyajin turned the page and began looking at a new set of pictures. "Maybe."

"That's a promise!" Pan called as she ran as fast as she could to the nearest room with a television with barely a backwards glance.

- 

Dinner.

They--the Briefs, the Sons (all of them!), and the Saiyajin--somehow managed to fit in the kitchen. Bulma claimed this made for a more intimate dining affair, but Trunks' suspicion was that she simply didn't want to go through the trouble of setting up the formal reception area.

Bulma presided at the head of the table, along with two sets of unused silverware for her deceased parents. Vegita was to her right, and Trunks to her left. Next to Trunks was Bra, who insisted that the Saiyajin eat with her, and of course that meant Pan sat with her too, but due to space constraints she was actually in Gohan's lap. Videl shared the end of the table with Goten rather awkwardly, since she was left-handed. However, the only other lefty at the table was Chi-Chi (whose appearance at Capsule Corp was not entirely a surprise, but not entirely welcome, either), and she was on the other side of Goku so that his large body mostly prevented the two women from glaring at each other.

Bulma kept most of the conversation going, talking about safe, superficial subjects in a running monologue that was occasionally interrupted by the two girls piping up to put their two cents in. Vegita behaved himself remarkably well, keeping a straight face through some of the things that even Trunks had a hard time not rolling his eyes at. Gohan was trying to eat and feed Pan, something he couldn't quite do simultaneously. Goku and Goten stuffed themselves, oblivious to everything else going around them.

The Saiyajin--

The Saiyajin finished first and rose, nodding towards Bulma. "It was a nice meal, but I'd rather not impose on you like this on a regular basis."

"I don't plan on feeding you every day, either," Bulma replied half-jokingly. "Only when I invite you over to be my guinea pig."

The Saiyajin shrugged almost imperceptively. "At least you're honest about it."

"Always the best policy, right?" Bulma poked Trunks in the ribs. "Be a gentleman and walk her out."

A chorus of "me too!" sprang up from Pan and Bra, which of course turned into a cacophony of whining as their respective parents vetoed the idea.

"Why does Trunch get to go?" Pan asked, twisting this way and that in Gohan's arms. "It's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair," the Saiyajin and Vegita answered simultaneously.

Trunks shoveled a few extra mouthfuls of food in the silence that followed, then stood as well. He cleared his throat. "Let's get going."

The Saiyajin resumed her air of neutrality. "Yes, let's."

- 

Bulma blinked several times to make sure that her lack of sleep wasn't causing her to imagine that the Saiyajin girl was sitting in the Capsule Corp living room looking through the remainder of the photographs that she had been perusing before the meal.

When she was sufficiently certain that this was no hallucination, Bulma stepped into the doorway. "You can turn the lights on, I won't mind."

The girl only continued to examine the pictures. "I can see just fine."

"What about coffee?" Bulma offered, entering the room.

"No, thanks." Now the girl raised her head. "Do you have some sort of death wish?"

"You don't have any reason to kill me, not right now." Bulma sat down next to the girl. "And if I were going to die anyway, I'd do it in a way that might make a difference, instead of cowering in a corner somewhere."

The girl smiled slightly. "A sentiment worthy of a Saiyajin. No wonder Vegita's so taken with you."

Bulma snorted. "Taken? If I didn't know any better, I'd think that he was trying to drive me crazy."

"He might be," the girl remarked thoughtfully. "But he certainly has a strange way of going about it."

Bulma wondered just how old this girl was. "You sound like you're pretty familiar with Vegita."

The girl's attention went back to the pictures. "I thought I was."

'What's that supposed to mean?' Bulma wanted to ask, but thought better of herself. She knew from her earlier experience that afternoon that if the girl didn't want to talk, there was nothing Bulma could do about it. 'And I had thought Vegita was good at dodging questions. Sheesh.'

The girl's eyes were on Bulma again. "Is there something on my face?"

Bulma was about to apologize when she had an idea. She gave the girl a coy smirk. "Guess."

The girl chuckled. "Playing hard to get, are you? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to seduce me."

Bulma pretended to ogle the girl. "Now that you mention it, you are quite the looker. Too bad I'm already married and not into girls. Besides, I think my son's closer to your age anyway."

"The Little Prince?" It was the girl's turn to snort. "He's even more spoiled than his father."

"That he is," Bulma agreed. "By the way, he didn't give you any more while he was walking you out, did he?"

"Nah." The girl closed the album with a quick flick of her wrist. "All right, it's been fun, but that's enough reconnaisance for the day."

"Just a sec." Bulma took out her wallet and quickly found the most recent photo of the group together. "Here."

"That's a very nice gesture, but--" the girl gestured to herself. "As you can see, I don't have any pockets."

"Oh, right." Bulma scratched her cheek sheepishly, examining the girl's armor more closely this time. In addition to the typical 'glorified spandex', as Bulma jokingly dubbed the suit, the girl also wore a belt upon which hung something that looked like it could have come off the set of a science fiction movie. Bulma wondered what the odd symbol stitched just beneath the golden shoulder band meant, but she had a feeling the girl wasn't in any mood to talk about it. "I'm sure you can figure something out."

"I guess I could try." The girl stood. "Good night."

"Good night."

* * *

_Unnecessarily Long and Tiresome Authoress' Notes:_  
Dialogue more realistic, action condensed, and I still managed to cover most of the necessary information. W00t.


End file.
